


Bewildered

by Oliver__Niko



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dreams, Friendship, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Questioning, Sex Dreams, Sexual Confusion, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:22:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23806831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: Sylvain has a sex dream about his best friend and seeks the advice of Mercedes.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier & Mercedes von Martritz, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 5
Kudos: 96





	Bewildered

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I'll ever stop writing about Sylvain being utterly confused over his sexuality, being as it's simply so amusing--but also sad at times as well. And Mercedes is a sweetheart, so I wanted to bring her in to give her disaster friend some advice.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Dreams like these are hardly uncommon. It’s to be expected with a mind so consistently in the gutter, and when Sylvain finds himself with a new woman in bed often.

Images of being entangled with them beneath the sheets—or out of them, if a bed isn’t involved—are quite entertaining. Never meaning much to him, the faces those he knows must have appeared in his life at some point, yet unable to have a name put to them. Mere jerking off material in the morning and little more than that.

He certainly never questions it twice. It never _means_ anything, nothing is unusual. Until now, and the person has a face he notices completely. And a voice.

In those dreamy images blurred at the edges, there’s a head of deep indigo hair that sprawls out on the sheets, every strand so beautifully placed that he could be looking at a painting. Pale skin, an arched back with a defined waist, Sylvain unable to understand how it is constructed so artfully in his mind.

Not when this person isn’t a woman Sylvain has met randomly, or even a woman at all—he has certainly not seen Felix naked, not since they were children taking baths together, and one has to question how his mind filled in the blanks of the body he hasn’t seen _this_ well.

It’s mesmerising. Felix’s face planted in the bed, Sylvain taking him from behind. Within the echoed sounds of blissful dreams is that voice. Felix, so full of snark and mouthiness, should not sound like that.

He shouldn’t be moaning out Sylvain’s name breathlessly, practically _begging_ for him to go harder.

And Sylvain should certainly not be enjoying every moment.

It feels far too short-lived, Sylvain wanting to experience it from start to finish, when he stirs from his slumber. It takes mere seconds of adjusting to being awake for him to raise an arm above his head, breathing out deeply.

“Shit,” he says simply, because what else is there to say when he is accepting he dreamed of fucking his best friend?

He pulls back the covers despite how he can feel his erection enough to know it’s there. A loud knock on the door startles him; so _that’s_ what woke him up.

“Oi, are you awake?” says the voice of Felix through the door. The last person Sylvain wants to hear. “You promised you’d train with me today.”

“I know, I’m awake!” Sylvain calls back. His eyes flicker back down to the unfortunate bulge in his underwear. “Just, uh, got some things to take care of.”

“Better not be jacking off.”

How Sylvain wishes that could remain as a joke. “Not at all!” Sylvain says, precisely as he pulls his underwear down and reaches for lotion and tissues. “I’ll be right with you, so head down there without me, all right?”

“Fine. Don’t be any more late than you already are.”

“It’s still so early,” Sylvain mutters, glancing at the clock. How on Earth did he manage to dream like _that_ about someone so prickly? As if Felix could ever …

Damnit. Now his awful, awful mind is fixated back on his best friend as he does what needs to be done, wondering all the while if Felix _would_ be different in the bedroom. He’s met them, after all. Cocky types who become a mess and beg exactly like Felix had.

He casts aside the thought that perhaps wondering how Felix would be in bed might not be the straightest thing he has ever questioned, and remains comforted by pretending to himself that all will be fine the moment he gets this out of his system.

* * *

He is not fine.

Those images are not leaving him as he trains with Felix. Ever since their childhood, Felix has fascinated him. It has only ever been in a way, however, where Sylvain has appreciated those skills. Felix has always had a natural inclination to the sword. Honing it, and dedicating so much time to practising with it, is something Sylvain admires deeply despite how he himself has skills he’s polished.

And Felix, to anyone, is captivating. His style of swordsmanship is beautiful, graceful, and the way he moves about so naturally and seamlessly … In reality, it’s the norm for any good swordsman, but there’s something different about Felix. He’s simply so swift. Such incredible, polished instincts, but also eyes that observe and an almost sixth sense for his opponents’ movements.

This all seems normal to appreciate from Sylvain. Other people often do the same, watching Felix as they give approving nods.

Sylvain’s eyeballing Felix’s body is likely not quite as normal. The latter is visibly annoyed as Sylvain falls straight to the ground again, after clearly not putting in much effort at all.

“What is the _matter_ with you?” Felix demands, kicking at Sylvain’s foot—gently, he notices, for Felix never enjoys causing someone actual pain. “I do beat you easily, but never _this_ bad. Is something on your mind?”

_You and the ass I’ve somehow never properly checked out before?_ “Sorry, I guess I’m distracted,” Sylvain somehow manages to say instead. He gets to his feet, adding, “I’ll try to focus more. Swear I’m actually taking this seriously.”

Felix hums. “That’s a concern. Could risk your life when we’re rounding up bandits, so if you’re …” His eyes narrow. “Wait. Never mind. It’s probably women you’re thinking about, isn’t it?”

“Aha … Right! Women, it’s always women. You’ve got me.” He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Felix eyes him suspiciously. Sylvain cannot blame him.

“Well, if you’re not going to talk about it, at the very least focus properly, all right? You’ve been making improvements lately as well. Don’t want you slacking off and getting sloppy again.”

“Don’t worry, I _swear_ I’ll work harder.”

Felix hums, positioning himself back into an offensive stance. “Guess I’ll know that when I see it.”

Something about that voice, those pointed eyes fixed on Sylvain, urges the latter to perhaps actually take this seriously.

They shift back into the fray. Only this time, Sylvain puts all of his thoughts on hold, focusing instead on actually putting his all into this. Spear colliding straight into that sword Felix directs at him. The latter blinks over the force, grinning slightly as he’s pushed back. The gap in brute strength urges him to jump back and change tactics, aiming to swing a kick at the back of Sylvain’s head.

Sylvain catches it. Ducks as Felix spins around to attempt to collide his other foot into Sylvain. The balls of his feet land surprisingly lightly on the floor. Kicking off, swinging his sword, and _wow,_ that speed is even more mesmerising whenever Sylvain puts in the effort.

For once, he realises how badly he doesn’t want to lose. He wants to prove himself instead.

Their movements continue to dance around each other. Movements blurred as they’re caught up in the fight, letting their instincts take over. The world truly comes back into focus when Sylvain is pointing his spear at Felix’s neck, keeping him pinned on the floor.

There’s a moment of silence. He listens to Felix’s panted breaths, inspects the flush he assumes is from exertion. Has he ever noticed this tension, or is it something that only exists now since those damned images that appeared in his dream?

The spear is pushed away, Felix getting to his feet with a deep exhale. “All right, you got me this time.”

“See? I _am_ good when I put in the effort!”

“I know you are. That’s why I wish that you would do that more often.” Felix scoops up his sword, swinging it into place. “Come on. Let’s go again.”

“Awh, again? Even after you were beat?”

“The fact that I was beaten _makes_ me want to go again. Guess there’s some appeal in losing.”

There’s a grin on his face, and a look in his eyes that Sylvain doesn’t quite understand. The only thing he _does_ understand is how he’s truly entertained by Felix, more so than ever before, and he’s more than happy to continue.

Happy, but also confused by these random thoughts appearing in his mind. The expected imagery of a man with his head in the gutter, but also … simply how pretty Felix is. His hair has grown a lot since they were children, the strands that are falling loose from his bun telling Sylvain exactly this. His face is cute, especially when his eyes are so passionate … And Sylvain wonders what it would be like to kiss those lips.

Dreaming about him really has sent Sylvain’s brain into a strange mode. It’s almost as though Sylvain is _attracted_ to him, which is obviously not the case when he is a straight male. Perhaps he’s simply overthinking the aesthetic appeal that can be found in Felix.

So he says to himself, until he realises he’s extremely close to another erection when he acknowledges his enjoyment for having the head of his spear be pointed at Felix’s neck, and he decides to abort immediately.

“Already tired out?” Felix asks, seeming rather disappointed over Sylvain’s sudden desire to leave.

“I have a study session with Mercedes.” Sylvain admires himself for this speedy, convincing lie, even if he feels guilty for telling it at all.

“Oh. Okay. Another time, then?”

The smile Sylvain gives Felix is genuine. “Absolutely. I had fun today.” He claps Felix on the shoulder. “Don’t overdo it!” he says, before he jogs out of the training grounds, somehow even more puzzled by everything than he had been this morning.

* * *

Luck is on Sylvain’s side when his searching for Mercedes is speedy. She and Annette are currently in the Blue Lions’ room, both sat at a desk laughing together. Sylvain breathes out deeply and rushes over.

“Good morning, ladies,” he greets.

“Morning!” says Annette. “You look like you’ve been training for once.”

“For once indeed,” Mercedes adds, a fond smile on her face to show she is joking—or, at the very least, says this with kind intent.

“Yeah, Felix and I did so together. Uh … Mercedes, can I talk to you? Somewhere private? Not like that!” he adds hurriedly over the stern eyes Annette gives him. “Just … There’s something I think you can help with.”

“Help?” The word coaxes Mercedes out of her chair. “Of course, Sylvain. Let’s go find somewhere quiet. Annie, I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing,” she says, still seeming a little suspicious, although much less so than before. Grateful for his friend’s constant wish to help others, he leads the way to find somewhere quiet.

They choose an empty classroom, Mercedes watching with curiosity as Sylvain closes the door. He’s usually not one to be so private about anything sex related. Felix, however, is a different story.

“Right …”

“What’s the matter, Sylvain?”

His mouth opens, closes. He also doesn’t tend to find trouble in talking about anything to do with this topic. Trying to gather words, however, to describe his current thoughts and confusion, is apparently near impossible.

Until, that is, he decides to stop thinking completely and let himself blurt out, “I dreamed about having sex with Felix.”

That’s one way to get straight to the point. Mercedes blinks, mildly surprised, although seeming a little less so than Sylvain expected.

“I suppose … it does happen,” she says slowly.

“Yeah, but … _Felix?_ My best friend? I mean, come on,” Sylvain lets out a laugh, scratching the back of his head, “I know that I’m constantly thinking about this stuff. Or doing it. But wow, what was my brain thinking to pop _him_ in my dreams?”

Mercedes hums, watching him with an almost inspecting look that makes him strangely nervous. Or … perhaps not nervous, precisely. Simply a little uncertain. _Is_ there anything to speculate here? Is he overthinking it?

His brain has a miniature spiral down, returning as Mercedes finally says, “Maybe you could explain this to me a little more?”

“Oh, with pleasure.” Sylvain, unnecessarily, bends his knees a little and hovers his hands through the air in front of him. “So it was doggy style, right, and I was really going at it as he was like—”

“No, Sylvain,” says Mercedes, a rare frustration in her voice, “not that type of explanation. I meant about how you _feel._ There is something about this dream that is clearly bothering you. So I was more curious about your general … emotions.”

“ _Oh._ Emotions, huh?” Sylvain leans back on a desk, humming. “See, that’s why I’m so confused. Usually I don’t think twice about having them. But … it’s Felix! And it was pretty damn good! Which is weird, as he’s my best friend, you know? And I’m _obviously_ straight.”

Mercedes hums again. “Do you think you might be attracted to Felix?”

“What? No! He’s a _dude.”_

“Yes. And you seem very conflicted over that fact.” Mercedes’ already gentle voice grows that little more so, and Sylvain finds himself coming down from his abundance of thoughts to listen properly. “Sylvain, if you simply had this dream and made a joke about it to us, even to Felix himself, I would not question it for a second. It happens sometimes, brains making us think of … strange things. But you’re getting worked up over it instead,” she ignores his _“I’m not!”_ and continues speaking, “and are questioning it this much. It’s that reaction which makes me wonder about this, not the dream itself.”

Sylvain’s mouth drops open. “But … But I’ve never thought about him that way.”

“You haven’t?”

“No! I mean, sure, I’ve appreciated his appearance before, but … That’s normal, right?”

“Yes. And in many situations, it means little. But it can be difficult to know what our sub-conscious is telling us.” There’s a pause, and a smile is on Mercedes’ face as she asks, “I can tell you are thinking of the same thing. After all, why else would you come to me? It’s because you know I’m bisexual, isn’t it?”

“I … yeah. I think so. I don’t know.” Sylvain’s eyes drop to his feet. “You do have a point. If I wasn’t at least dwelling on this stuff a bit, then I wouldn’t be thinking over it so much. I’d just jerk off and get it over with. Sorry,” he adds when Mercedes cringes. “I just … I never really cross these boundaries with friends, either. Not by this much. Guess I feel guilty.”

“I mean, I’m sure it’s not something you wished on yourself. No need to fret.” Mercedes walks over to him, taking his hand between hers and giving it a squeeze. “And there is no need to come to any conclusions about what you are, either.”

“Yeah. Don’t think it really matters when I’m going to be thrown into an arranged marriage anyway.”

“It matters if it’s something you feel as though you _do_ have to figure out. Even if for yourself and no one else.” She gives that hand another squeeze before letting go. “Feeling any better?”

“I think so. Maybe. You know, I’m just kind of thinking that if I’m going to be attracted to _any_ guy, Felix seems like a good option.”

“You think so?”

Sylvain hums, a smile appearing on his face. He chooses not to voice the thoughts that come to his mind aloud. How much he realises he has been noticing Felix’s changes throughout his teenage years, even before today when his dreams put this at the front of his mind. That he can precisely see _why_ his brain would conjure such intoxicating dreams of Felix.

Even away from these more shallow thoughts of beauty and physical appearance … There’s certainly a lot more to Felix that he can appreciate, too.

“And if he _did_ choose to sleep with me, I wouldn’t say no,” says Sylvain, laughing at Mercedes’ sigh.

“I feel as though I’ve heard enough of these types of thoughts from you,” she says. Even so, as the two leave the room and are hit with the sun outside, both are dwelling on a similar thought.

There could be something here that’s different to everyone else Sylvain dreams about, something that goes beyond intimacy between the sheets.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading!  
> Feel free to find me on Twitter @/nikobynight.


End file.
